


What About Mother

by Colster



Category: Halo, Metroid Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, Metroid/Halo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colster/pseuds/Colster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master Chief's life is turned upside down when a teenager claiming to be the daughter of an old friend shows up on his doorstep asking for help. Metroid/Halo Crossover AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thunder

Thunder cracked again, rattling the earth underneath the teen's feet. Her clothes had been long soaked through, and her hair clung to her face. The rain was oddly fitting in a way she supposed. It was a sufficient cleansing after her grueling journey, washing away the hardships she endured and, well, the two months worth of blood, sweat, tears, and _dirt_ she had accumulated. She shivered as a new wave of relief and nerves simultaneously came over her. Desperately, she wanted to move on from this chapter in her life. Of course, she had always felt capable of navigating the galaxy on her own if she had to, but learning, trying, and failing under the watchful eye of her protective mother was an entirely different beast from this seemingly unending journey that felt like she was searching more for a ghost than a man.

She was here, though. Maybe. She had struck out before, and every wrong move she made threw her further into danger. This was her last chance. If it wasn't him, she resigned to the fact that she would probably never find him. After all, this was probably the impossible task anyway. How did her mother expect her to find someone just based on the title of "The Chief"?

But, with no options left, she held her breath and knocked.

The following seconds seemed _endless_ , but eventually the front door opened. Before her, stood the man she had spent months looking for. She knew it. Her head was spinning and her thoughts couldn't keep up with her mouth.

"Can I come in?" No, she shouldn't have started with that. She mentally chided herself, immediately listing a thousand things that might have been better to say first. She _really_ wanted to get out of the rain though.

The man didn't answer at first, though. He spent a loaded moment just looking at the girl. Studying how much she inexplicably looked like _her._ The resemblance was uncanny, and even if she and _her_ had no connection, he would have been incredibly surprised if this girl hadn't already picked up the attention of the Galactic Federation. It looked as if she had been through hell and back, so her being on the run seemed likely. Or he was being set up. Both seemed equally likely interruptions of his relatively peaceful (for him) life.

"Can I come in?" She repeated, asking with a new sense of urgency. "It's raining."

Duh. Wordlessly, he opened the door and stepped a side. She shuffled in, the door closing behind her. She took a moment to examine her surroundings. It was somewhat bare house, seemingly stocked with only the essentials. While it may have unnerved others, it gave the teenager a sense of familiarity. It's difficult to acquire possessions when space is at a premium. Her home, be it a space ship or the apartments or houses she and her mom occupied as they jumped from planet to planet had always been quite… spartan.

"Are you the Chief?" He responded with a nod. She decided that this man just didn't talk very much. Not that she wanted him to. She appreciated the moment of silence the reel in her thoughts that were now out of control in her head. Overwhelmed with the idea that her search might be over, she couldn't quite get the words to form an explanation of her current situation. She was stuck in her own mind, and the Chief had to repeat his question twice before she realized he was finally talking to her.

"Who are you?"

"Sam," was what she finally stammered out. She could only manage her name, something that likely meant nothing to the Chief because it doesn't seem to increase any sign of recognition in the his face. She managed to continue, "My mom told me that if I was ever– ever in trouble I could find you."

She, of course, didn't tell her what to do after that. Sam hadn't realized that until just now. What exactly _was_ she supposed to do here?

"Who is your mom?" He asked already knowing the answer, but it seemed impossible. He wanted to hear it from Sam.

"Samus Aran."

"Where is she?"

"She's dead."


	2. Tabloids

There were only about two things the Chief never envisioned Samus would become in the years since they had last spoken. A mother and dead were both of those things. His anticipated his sense of suspicion to kick in then, but the way her voice wavered when announcing Samus' death spoke of her genuine grief. However illogical, the Chief believed her.

"How long ago did she-?" "Two months," Sam's eyes shot down to the floor. It seemed as if this was the first time she was talking about it. "You're hard to find."

He realized she had probably had been trying to find him since her mother's death, not exactly leaving time to mourn. Her emotions seemed to be catching up with her, and she tensed when she seemed to realize the sudden rush of two months of turmoil and grief catching up with her. The Chief wasn't particularly good at dealing with these sorts of things, so he tried to redirect the conversation so Sam could deal with her emotions later. Preferably in private.

"You can stay here," he figured she didn't have many other choices. She looked back up at him with moderate disbelief followed by a creeping sensation of overwhelming appreciativeness. He continued, "It's the least I can do for your mom."

"How did you know her?" She asked him. "She never really… told me how she knew you. Just that you would help."

"We worked together." Sam almost sniggered in response. She told him "My mom doesn't work with anybody."

He shrugged in response and said plainly, "She worked with me."

Sam looked at him doubtfully, but when she opened her mouth to ask for clarification she yawned. She had been running on adrenaline for two months, and her body very much wanted to get some rest. Chief told her, "Get some rest. We can talk in the morning."

* * *

The Chief was a man of few possessions, but he could still be strangely sentimental about a few items. He pulled open the drawer of his bedside table and brushed aside papers to pull out an odd item: a tabloid clipping.

It was a grainy photo of them, taken from far away and published in such a low budget magazine that the editors couldn't afford to enhance it. He remembered it was at the height of their infamy (though he wasn't sure Samus' notoriety had ever fallen quite like his). She had seen the photographer and had leaned over to whisper the need for an immediate exit when the picture was snapped. The photo fueled rumors about them, but was ultimately discredited as just two look alikes of the Hunter and the Spartan: a fact that amused Samus to no end and inspired her to cut out and save the picture. It was, as far as Chief knew, the only photo of them out of armor together.

He hadn't made a habit of looking at the picture often. It was a strange reminder of a closed chapter in his life that he still had conflicted feelings over. He was not built to be someone's companion, and feelings of guilt, self-doubt, and selfishness still lingered on the periphery of his mind over it. Touch and affection were once again foreign concepts in his mind, but he couldn't help but be reminded of her hand on his back urgently ushering them away in this photo, or the gentle hand lain on his shoulder in the privacy of their ship, always preceded by his name as not to alarm him with sudden physical contact when he was distracted.

He slowly grew accustomed to her touch and missed it for longer than he cared to admit after they parted ways. He was strong enough to let her be, though. As evident from the teenager who had fallen asleep in his living room, she had gone on to have a life after him, however unlikely the results seemed. His thoughts briefly took him to imagine a man who must've been Sam's father, which elicited an unpleasant reaction in his gut.

He identified the emotion as jealousy, which, however fleeting, alarmed the Chief and prompted him to return the picture back to the spot it had spent years undisturbed.


	3. Thrown

_First, there is silence. Then there is static and the rush of blood pumping in his ears. He fights to keep conscious, clinging to the very last threads of it with the desperate grip of a fighting dog. His entire body is limp and laying in a steaming crater of destruction, evidence of their dire attempt to fight off a final attack._

_Details bleed back in, but not as quickly as he wants or needs them too. His heart is pounding out of his chest, and his visor still polarized black to block the blinding flash. He needs to be up. He needs to be moving, but his head is throbbing with powerful, dizzy aches and there's a piercing pain in his leg preventing him from pulling himself up. He needs to find her. Slowly, things begin to filter in. A muffled voice. Shouting. Shouting his name. He takes a sharp breath in when he tries to respond. To let her know he's ok. He's alive. His visor fades to something translucent, his vision is blurred but her blond hair is unmistakable as her hands reach forward to pull his helmet off…_

But it's the hand on his shoulder that startles him awake. Spartan reflexes act instinctively and his hands have thrown the perpetrator across the room before it registers who it is. He's up as she thumps against the wall and remorse and guilt wash over him.

"Oh fuck. Fuck," he hisses. He's out of the bed and speaking before his brain can catch up, "Oh God, Samus. I'm so sorry, I told you–"

He drops down to his knees. His hands reach for her face, stopping short when one by one the realizations fill in. Samus Aran was not the one who woke him. Samus Aran had not woken him for sixteen years. This woman's smaller frame is indicative of that. She's visibly shaken. Tentatively, he drops his calloused hands onto her shoulder, but they immediately retreat when she flinches at the contact. Spartans were not built for touch, and it's obvious to Chief that his many years of solitude since Samus' departure did nothing to mend that.

Finally, he settles on asking, "Are you okay?"

She nods, and Chief lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Slowly, he sits down on his heels and drops his shoulders, trying to level with her a bit more. His thoughts are on the first night he accidentally grabbed Samus after being startled by her. It wasn't a memory he was particularly fond of or cared to share with her daughter. Lines in his face deepen as he frowns, but his worry is thankfully hidden by the darkness of his room.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

Cautiously, she opens her mouth. There's still a moments lag between that and when she actually speaks, "You looked like you were having a nightmare."

He doesn't contest, but he doesn't confirm either. He offers sort of an acknowledging grunt, "Hn." He pauses briefly before adding plainly, "Don't touch me when I'm sleeping. Startles me. Reflexes."

She nods again. She knows she's been caught snooping. Chief doesn't need to chastise her for that. He pushes himself onto his feet. He offers a hand to Sam to help her up, but she doesn't take it. Quickly, she exits his room and he hears her footsteps take her back to the living room where she was sleeping before she decided to sneak around. Chief himself isn't too eager to return to visions of his past. They're much easier to keep at bay while awake. He retrieves his omni-tool. Maybe he wouldn't have much luck, but it was a likely place to start looking:

Records of Galactic Federation high-security prisoner transports.

* * *

He's not surprised when he finds her, still fully awake, slouching on the couch in his living room in the early hours of the morning. She probably didn't intend to snoop tonight, but it was something to keep her occupied in this strange place. She shifts, almost restlessly, clearly not very comfortable sitting still in an unfamiliar house. He takes a seat across from her. Uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, and she holds her breath like she's expecting a scolding now.

But it doesn't come.

"I don't think your mother is dead."

Sam's mouth parts slightly like she's ready to object, but she clenches her jaw tightly and shakes her head. No. She was there… There's no way… She can't let herself hope that there's any possibility otherwise.

He continues, "Can you tell me what she was after?"

She scrunches her eyes shut, this wasn't happening. This was some sort of sick joke he was trying to play on her. To get her back for going through his stuff, "She's dead."

"What if she isn't?"

"Could you find her?" The desperation in her voice is obvious. She's grabbing onto this idea, this sliver of hope that her mother might still be alive. He nods once, "I can try."

She takes a sharp breath in, "It started about a year ago…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to a good friend of mine with this chapter. She's more knowledgeable about the Master Chief than I could ever hope to be.


End file.
